


Not Ordinary Cuts

by Kummitustytto



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, it's kinda Crowley/Aziraphale but it's not that obvious, or maybe it is it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-03
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:41:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kummitustytto/pseuds/Kummitustytto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hastur finds Crowley and leaves him severely injured and the injuries are not healing like they're supposed to. What Hastur didn't think is that there indeed is someone who's willing to save the demon's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Ordinary Cuts

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry, I never know how to tag or rate these things.

There was an unpleasant cracking sound when Crowley hit the ground after falling from the window of his flat. Pieces of glass were raining down all over him and he heard a swooshing of wings as Hastur descended dramatically slowly from the window like the worst nightmare anyone could possibly have. It took a moment before Crowley could stand up – he felt like he had several broken bones, but that was nothing in comparison to what Hastur would do to him. Of course there was pretty much no point in trying to escape but he had to try anyway. Crowley started to limp away as fast as he could, but Hastur was just behind him, ominous as ever. 

“Where do you think you’re crawling, serpent?” the Duke of Hell asked, his voice was horribly cheerful and full of menace. If Crowley would have needed to breath, he would have found it extremely difficult and not only because of apparently broken ribs. He was seriously screwed this time, there was no way out of this now was there? He couldn’t think of anything. Hastur had caught him by surprise.

There was a metallic sound and when Crowley turned to look Hastur had a long, black sword in his hand. It was a terrifying sword, it had an occultic look on it and Crowley didn’t want to know what exactly it was and what it did, but he had a feeling that he’d find that out all too soon anyway. He guessed it was not an ordinary weapon, not even close to being one.

“Do you like it, Crowley?” Hastur asked admiring the weapon in his hand. “I got it especially for you. What, no last words? Nothing clever to say now, huh? Don’t run, there’s no point in that.”

A ray of pain slashed through Crowley’s body as the blade cut the skin of his back. He fell on the ground and barely managed to dodge when the sword rushed down right where his head had been just about a millisecond ago. He jumped on his feet and avoided another strike. The next one cut a large wound on his left shoulder but after all he was still in one piece. Crowley could feel his broken bones starting to heal, but pain was radiating from the sword cuts. The dangerous dance between the two demons continued for a while and left Crowley with a lot of bleeding cuts, but somehow he managed to stay alive.

Hastur was swinging the sword like a crazy movie villain. He also looked like that, definitely villain and definitely crazy. The strikes rained on Crowley theatrically, but never managed to touch anything really vital that would have killed him right away, which confused Crowley but he wasn’t going to complain. When that had been going on for a while Crowley noticed they had drifted quite close to his Bentley and if he just…

*

Afterwards Crowley wasn’t even sure how he had managed to get in the Bentley, start the engine so fast and drive away. He was bleeding and Hastur was still out there, but Crowley was rapidly heading away from him and, most importantly, he was still alive.

If he had seen the smile on Hastur’s face, he would have been a considerable amount more worried. Maybe even horrified. Or scared shitless.

*

It didn’t take long for Crowley to find out that his wounds were not healing. At all. His clothes were starting to get soaked in blood and his vision was starting to get blurred. All that was topped with the throbbing pain that claimed an increasing portion of his consciousness. There was also something wrong with the Bentley, it had started to act like its tank was almost entirely empty. And of course it had been empty for decades, but it was like the car was just now noticing it. It was starting to become clear for Crowley that he – or at least his body – was dying and he wasn’t going to get anywhere far. Not that it would have helped him if he had been able to drive as far as he could but somehow it made the whole situation look even more hopeless.

He cursed when he realised why he had been able to escape. It was because he had been allowed to. He would die soon enough and then Hastur would have free hands with him for an eternity. Probably Hastur also thought it’d be more horrible to die after he’d thought he’d escaped and also to die alone. Even demons could feel lonely and Crowley for sure would look like he had no one in this world or anywhere else for that matter. That was where Hastur was wrong.

Crowley was already quite close to Aziraphale’s bookshop, maybe he’d headed that way almost instinctively. As he parked the Bentley in front of the shop, Crowley felt like his insides were being ripped into pieces. He could only hope the angel would and could help him. It was a small miracle that he even got to the door.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale said as he opened the door and saw the pale, bloodied demon. “What’s happened to you?”

“Hastur found me”, Crowley explained as he leaned on the angel and would have collapsed on the floor without support. “Help me.”

“Oh my, he really got you in a bad shape, didn’t he”, the angel muttered as he helped Crowley inside and to lie down on an old, worn out sofa in the back of his store. “Those are not ordinary wounds are they?”

“Suppose not”, Crowley answered though his voice was thick with pain. “Oh he’s really pissed with me. Gotta admit, he was clever this time.”

“How so?” the angel asked as he examined Crowley’s injuries. Crowley was attempting to smile and speak light-heartedly as if to cover just how serious the whole situation was to him. It didn’t fool the angel for a second.

“Killing this body. If I go to Hell now he will make sure I’ll never get away from there ever again. I guess Ligur’s death really pissed him off. Or maybe he took the ansaphone thing way too personally.” Crowley laughed but his face twisted in agony and the laughter died. Aziraphale didn’t ask about the ansaphone.

The angel took Crowley’s face between his hands and concentrated. A flash of white light appeared and covered Crowley and for a moment the pain melted away. Then the light was gone, but the pain came back. Aziraphale looked at him deeply concerned if not downright scared.

“What is it?” Crowley asked feeling as though someone was trying to strangle him (metaphorically speaking, strangling would have been quite pointless when he didn’t have to breathe). Hastur’s sword wouldn’t be magical enough to make wounds that even an angel couldn’t heal, would it?

“I… I’m not strong enough, angels are not supposed to heal demons, you know”, the angel explained as he was clearly also trying to think of something. “And there seems to be some rather dark magic involved. It’s like your body is resisting the healing, but if I just could work up a little bit more power I think I would be able to…”

The angel’s face lit up. And he started to look around himself excitedly, like the answer was just staring at him in the face.

“I should have a talisman of sort that should do the trick! Um, just hang on a few seconds, my dear. I’ll just have to find it.”

Crowley groaned as if to urge the angel to hurry up. There was a sound of boxes being frantically dug through and maybe some were emptied on the floor.

“I’ll find it!” the angel promised. “Just stay with me a while longer, I’ll find it!”

“Not going anywhere”, Crowley croaked trying to get some dark humour into his voice. Aziraphale didn’t find it that funny at all.

“That much for the immortality”, the demon laughed although that was awfully close to tears and that was embarrassing. The pain was washing over him in feverish waves. “If this body dies I could as well be dead. I’ll wish I’d cease to exist. Oh shit, I have lost my shades too.”

“And your superiors, will they just let Hastur keep you there and do what he wants?” the angel asked as the sound of searching continued. Crowley thought that maybe the angel wanted to keep him talking so he’d know that the demon was still conscious.

“I don’t see why not. Hell is not particularly chasing me, but I have a feeling that they don’t like me too much, after the whole apocalypse-that-never-happened thing”, the demon explained. There was red haze floating in his sight. “I mean… of course they don’t _like_ anyone down there, but, but… you know what I mean, right?”

“Right. Better keep you alive then, eh?”

Crowley coughed and with that came up a spatter of blood. Then he coughed again and the blood spatter was a little bit bigger. A cold flash of fear rushed through his body. Up to this point he had been down deep thinking that he’d survive. He always survived. Somehow. But now the possibility of him actually dying started to seem more and more likely. The panic was creeping in his mind as he felt his strength fading and death sneaking closer. The taste of blood was something that every demon was instinctively supposed to like but it was a whole different thing when it was your own blood.

He should say something. To Aziraphale. Something, but what? That he was glad he had known the angel and glad they had become… friends? He couldn’t go that soft. It was already too bad to be forced to ask an angel to save his life like this, even if the angel was Aziraphale. He couldn’t just go around directly telling others (especially if they were angels) that he liked them and appreciated them being there for him. No, that would not do. But he should say something…

“Angel”, the demon called looking at the bloodstain next to his head, “I think I’ve ruined your sofa. Sorry.”

He could see the angel’s worried face appearing from behind the sofa’s back rest. “Hang on, dear.”

Crowley found it difficult to keep his eyes open. The pain had somewhat faded, but the demon had a vague sensation that it was not a good thing at all. He was scared. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’d felt better, if someone had been holding him right at the moment. That kind of seemed proper for a moment like this. He had always hated those scenes in movies or books or in some occasion real life, when someone was dying and somebody else was crying all over them instead of doing something useful. It was always so sappy and mostly pointless. He would have felt better if someone had been doing that to him. If his consciousness had been clearer, he’d probably hated himself for that. At least he wasn’t dying alone on some dark alley like Hastur had probably been thinking.

“Haa!” the angel cried out victoriously and hurried to Crowley. “I knew I had it”, the angel said as he placed one hand on Crowley’s forehead. In his other hand he had some sort of tiny object. Crowley found it almost kind of funny that his life, his rest of eternity, seemed to depend on that tiny thing, whatever it was. Wasn’t that just bloody awesome.

“Don’t worry, my dear, I’ve got you”, Aziraphale said softly as the white light returned, stronger this time. The pain vanished and then the whole world and for a moment Crowley was afraid that he’d actually died after all, but then the world came back in the shape of Aziraphale’s face. Crowley felt how a warm sensation slid to his whole body and the cuts started to close up. When it was all done, Aziraphale looked a little bit weary, but he smiled to the demon anyway.

“Better?”

Crowley nodded as he examined his skin to make sure he really was healed. His body was as good as new. He was still feeling slightly hazy though. He had to focus to not let all of the utter relief and gratefulness to show on his face, he had his reputation to keep after all, and relief would mean that he had been scared. Aziraphale probably knew it anyway, his warm smile was widening ever so slightly.

Crowley sat up and almost started seeing starts.

“You should rest. Get some sleep. It was because of your body being essentially human-based that I was able to heal you and I think the human part could really use some sleep”, the angel said still concerned.

“I can’t”, Crowley answered, “Hastur will soon enough realise that I’m not showing up in Hell, I should hide. Or build some sort of defence. Or something. Anyway I should get going.”

“You’ll be safe here. I won’t let him find you.”

Sleeping did sound good. Actually staying with the angel also sounded good. It was rather nice to have someone somewhere near. Even demons could feel lonely. He considered it. Aziraphale was an angel after all, so he probably could hide him from other demons, even Hastur. The safest place Crowley could be would probably be with Aziraphale. It was just rational. And his body really was demanding some rest.

“Okay”, he said laying back down, “I guess I don’t need to flee immediately.”

 

It was almost too much to bear when the angel brought him a blanket and carefully covered him with it. Aziraphale didn’t say anything but the gesture itself was almost too sweet and caring, and how would a demon know how to handle that? It was at least very close to unfair! For a while Crowley was speechless and the angel focused on examining one of his books which left the room fill up with silence.

There was only the sound of thin, old paper rustling whenever the angel turned a page.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley finally said. The angel turned to look at him. “Thank you.”


End file.
